


Never Dull

by MizJoely



Series: SherlollyPrompts [17]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Parent!lock, Parentlock, Sherlolly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-20 08:32:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11917116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MizJoely/pseuds/MizJoely
Summary: Anon on tumblr asked: Hi there :) Big sherlolly fan and also of your fics. Here is a prompt for whenever you need one: Sherlock and Molly's child worrying about not be as special/smart/remarkable as his/her parents and being afraid of becoming "dull" in Sherlock's eyes





	Never Dull

"Dad's a genius."

Molly looked over at Moira, her wonderful, beautiful, intelligent, friendly, amazing twelve-year-old daughter. "Yes, I suppose he is," she said, even though it hadn't actually been a question. "Just figuring that out now are you?" she quipped with a grin. "Better not let him know it took you this long, he'll be insulted!"

She knew she'd said he wrong thing by the way Moira's blue-green eyes clouded over, her expression darkening even as her body seemed to shrink in on itself. Molly hurried across the room, laying her hand on her daughter's where it clutched the arm of Sherlock's chair. "Luv, I'm sorry, that was just a joke, what's wrong?"

It distressed her to see her daughter unhappy under any circumstances, but to have caused that distress was like putting her heart in the jaws of a bone-cutter and squeezing hard. "Moira? What is it?"

"Dad and Uncle Mycroft are both proper geniuses, and you're super smart, yeah? I mean, you're at the top of your field. Even Uncle John is a doctor and and a published author and Rosie's never failed a test in her life and I just got a stupid 70% on my maths test!"

"Hey, it's all right," Molly said, smothing a calming (she hoped) hand over her daughters disheveled chocolate curls. "There's nothing wrong with that grade–"

"Yes there is!" Moira shrilled, jumping to her feet and pacing around the sitting room much like her father when he was in a strop. "Dad thinks ordinary people are dull, and what if this means I'm just ordinary? If he thinks I'm dull then he won't love me anymore. He'll pretend to, but I'll know he's just pretending, when he's really just disappointed he only has one kid and it's a dull, boring, ordinary girl."

There were tears in her eyes when she finally wound down, and she spun away from her mother, hands raised to her face and tension fairly radiating from her trembling form.

Molly made to rise from the arm of the chair when a well-loved baritone voice rang through the sitting room. "Bollocks," Sherlock said firmly as he strode into the room, pausing only to give Molly a fond look before moving to stand behind Moira. "Who's been putting such ridiculous notions into your head? Why would you think I'd stop loving you for any reason at all? I know it's not your mother, and I certainly hope it wasn't anything I've ever done or said…and if it was," he added, gentling his voice, "I apologize."

Moira lifted her head from her hands and stared at him. "Dad, you don't ever apologize to anyone but Mum!"

He harrumphed and placed a hand on her shoulder. "First time for everything," he said gruffly. "Now get that idiotic notion out of your head once and for all, and replace it with this one." He peered at her intently. "I love you. I've loved you since before you were born and I'll love you for the rest of your life and beyond, if there is anything beyond which frankly I've never really…" He cleared his throat and darted a quick gaze at Molly - an apologetic gaze - before returning his full attention to his daughter. "I will never stop loving you, Moira Mary Hooper-Holmes. Ever."

"Even if it turns out I'm just dull and ordinary?" she half-whispered. But her eyes were hopeful.

"Even in the unlikely event that such a thing could happen, then yes, I would still love you. Even if you decided not to go to uni, to get a thousand tattoos, to run off and join a motorcycle gang in Thailand–even if you only make average grades in maths."

"Even if I told you I wanted to stop taking violin lessons and take piano instead?" she asked, biting her lower lip and fidgeting a bit.

Ah, the real reason she'd been so distraught, Molly realized with an internal sigh. Should have seen that coming when she started complaining about her lessons on a daily basis instead of a weekly basis.

Sherlock looked slightly taken aback, but rallied immediately, much to his credit. "Yes, even then. No matter what, I love you. Do you believe me? And before you answer," he interrupted himself to add, "do bear in mind the fact that I have never lied to you, unlike certain other members of this family."

Molly rolled her eyes. "Sherlock, telling children about Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy is NOT lying."

Moira grinned and allowed Sherlock to pull her into a comforting hug. "I believe you, Dad. And I'm sorry for getting all dramatic, Mum."

Molly smiled and stood up, moving to join them and put her arms around them. "Forgiven, forgotten," she replied. "Now. How about dinner at Angelo's since Dad's back from his case so early?"

And just like that, all was once again right in their world.


End file.
